“Monsieur, I saw her royal highness, Madame.” “That’s very well: but it is not Madame that I mean.” Raoul colored deeply, but made no reply. “You do not appear to understand me, monsieur le vicomte,” persisted M. de la Fere, without accenting his words more strongly, but with a rather severer look. “I understand you quite plainly, monsieur,” replied Raoul, “and if I hesitate a little in my reply, you are well assured I am not seeking for a falsehood.” “No, you cannot tell a lie, and that makes me so astonished you should be so long in saying yes or no.” “I cannot answer you without understanding you very well, and if I have understood you, you will take my first words in ill part. You will be displeased, no doubt, monsieur le comte, because I have seen——” “Mademoiselle de la Vallière—have you not?” “It was of her you meant to speak, I know very well, monsieur,” said Raoul, with inexpressible sweetness. “And I asked you if you have seen her.” “Monsieur, I was ignorant, when I entered the castle, that Mademoiselle de la Vallière was there; it was only on my return, after I had performed my mission, that chance brought us together. I have had the honor of paying my respects to her.” “But what do you call the chance that led you into the presence of Mademoiselle de la Vallière?” “Mademoiselle de Montalais, monsieur.” “And who is Mademoiselle de Montalais?” “A young lady I did not know before, whom I had never seen. She is maid of honor to Madame.” “Monsieur le vicomte, I will push my interrogatory no further, and reproach myself with having carried it so far. I had desired you to avoid Mademoiselle de la Vallière, and not to see her without my permission. Oh, I am quite sure you have told me the truth, and that you took no measures to approach her. Chance has done me this injury; I do not accuse you of it. I will be content then, with what I formerly said to you concerning this young lady. I do not reproach her with anything—God is my witness! only it is not my intention or wish that you should frequent her place of residence. I beg you once more, my dear Raoul, to understand that.” It was plain the limpid eyes of Raoul were troubled at this speech. “Now, my friend,” said the comte, with his soft smile, and in his customary tone, “let us talk of other matters. You are returning, perhaps, to your duty?” “No, monsieur, I have no duty for to-day, except the pleasure of remaining with you. The prince kindly appointed me no other: which was so much in accord with my wish.” “Is the king well?” “Perfectly.” “And monsieur le prince also?” “As usual, monsieur.” The comte forgot to inquire after Mazarin; that was an old habit. “Well, Raoul, since you are entirely mine, I will give up my whole day to you. Embrace me—again, again! You are at home, vicomte! Ah, there is our old Grimaud! Come in, Grimaud: monsieur le vicomte is desirous of embracing you likewise.”